


I Don't Bite

by Silphanis



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Butcher shop AU, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Yes Really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silphanis/pseuds/Silphanis
Summary: Faith Lehane's job at the local butcher shop is quite the dull affair. Or it would be, were it not for the regular visits from Angel, a secretive customer whose main interest seems to be blood. As the two get closer, it becomes apparent that there may be more to him than meets the eye...
Relationships: Angel/Faith Lehane
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12
Collections: Discord Community Archive





	1. Hook

Tall, dark, handsome, and always after sundown. Faith knew his style by now. Her eyes shot from the clock, with its promise of sweet relief from retail hell, to the glass door he was in the process of grabbing. He flung it open and strode in, seemingly unaware of how dramatic he looked. Faith chuckled softly to herself.

He strolled over to the meat counter. His eyes studied with no particular interest the various animal remains on the other side of the glass. Faith knew he wasn’t seriously thinking about any of them. He was only here for one thing.

She drummed her fingers against the counter rhythmically, observing him. “The usual?” she asked him.

He turned his head up with a closed-mouthed smile. “Unsurprisingly.”

‘The usual’, of course, meant pig’s blood.

She walked over to the fridge and pulled at the handle. It was old, and needed a little force to open every once in a while. She located a shelf full of plastic boxes and retrieved one from within, containing a sickly red substance. She headed back to the counter and slid the box to her customer.

“You know me too well,” he said.

He was still smiling, but the statement hadn’t sounded like a joke. Did she?

Faith shrugged. “Well, you’re lucky I do. You’re basically the only one who buys this stuff.”

They ordered much of it specifically for him, she knew. He had been a returning customer since before she had even started working there, and she had come to expect his regular visits.

He studied the box, satisfied. “Well, to each to each their own,” he said.

She rested her head in her palms, planting her shoulders on the counter. “What do you use it for, anyway? It’s _blood._ ”

His eyes shifted to look at the clock, and she followed suit. The sweet call of closing time was nearing.

“You can use it for more than you think,” he said.

 _Not much of an answer_ , Faith thought.

“Well I’m glad you want it so bad,” she decided to say. “Means I get to see more of you.”

His eyes shifted, trying to avoid her. “Well-” he began, but stopped just as soon as he had started. “Thank you,” he said instead.

“You’re welcome.” Seeing him all flustered was nice. He always seemed so serious, and she had broken the veneer for a moment.

He turned around and began walking towards the door. An enjoyable sight, but-

“Wait,” she said.

He looked back at her.

“Will today be the day I get to hear that lovely name of yours?”

He considered it for a moment. “Angel,” he finally said, then walked out.

“I’m Faith!” she called after him. She didn’t know if he heard.

* * *

Faith rubbed the soap roughly against her skin with her knuckles. It was the strongest scent she had been able to find at the supermarket. The meat smell clung to her like a bad ex-boyfriend, and only the best would do when removing it. By force, if necessary, and boy was it ever.

She opened the water again, biting her lip as it hit her skin. It was a habit for her to turn it up to unbearable heat bit by bit, like she was a frog, boiling herself. She turned her face up towards the showerhead and felt the cleansing rain run down her body. With a crank of her wrist, the water died down and she stood for a few moments, listening to the drops from her hair hitting the tiled floor beneath her.

Faith emerged from the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel and another covering her torso and thighs, feeling distinctly bougie and more than a bit refreshed.

“Sure took you long enough.”

Buffy was sitting by the small table in the entranceway, staring down at her phone.

“I work at a butcher shop, let me have this,” Faith replied. She sat down next to Buffy with a sigh, then leaned backwards and stared blankly into the middle distance.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Buffy asked.

Faith looked at her. “B, you know me. I don’t do the whole ‘thinking’ thing much.”

“Can’t fool me,” Buffy said. “Something’s going on up there.” She poked the side of Faith’s head.

She swatted Buffy’s hand away. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Faith acquiesced. “Well there’s this guy-”

“Oooh, a guy. Is he handsome?”

“Oh, mad handsome. He shops where I work,” Faith said.

“Hmm,” Buffy said. “Whenever I’ve worked retail it’s been customers flirting with me, not the other way around.”

“I don’t think he does that. He’s very quiet,” Faith said. “I learned his name today, though.”

Buffy nodded her head enthusiastically. “Names are good. What is it?”

“Angel.”

She snorted. “And you’re sure you’re not being punked?”

Faith rose and walked to the small kitchen. “Pretty sure, yeah. Some people have weird names.” She shrugged. “Besides, “Faith”? Like I’d be one to judge.”

She rummaged through the cupboard to find a half-used pack of coffee filters, then put it in the machine standing on the counter. She had found it in the electronic waste room, thrown out, and for good reason. It was old and rusty, and made a noise like a steam locomotive racing by when she turned it on. But it worked, and that was enough. She put in the coffee grinds, poured water inside, and turned it on.

Buffy swung herself inside from the doorway like a ballerina, then leaned against the counter. “So, work guy,” she said.

“Work guy,” Faith replied. The noise from the coffee machine was overtaking every other one in the kitchen.

“What’s he like?” Buffy said, almost yelling to avoid being drowned out.

Faith considered it for a moment. “Well, like I said, he’s quiet. Wears a lot of black.”

“Good color.”

“He buys blood,” Faith said. It was that moment the coffee machine stopped, leaving the statement to linger between them.

Buffy sideyed her. “O… kay. Is he a vampire?”

Faith rolled her eyes, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

“Well, sounds like the beginning of something beautiful,” Buffy snarked.

Faith handed her a mug, then filled it with enough of the liquid that it nearly spilled over.

Buffy took a careful and noisy sip.

“Got any weekend plans?” Faith asked.

“Gonna be at my mom’s place, she wanted me to come visit,” Buffy replied.

Faith frowned. “Aww, I was hoping we could hang.”

“Well, there’s always Angel.”

Faith scoffed slightly. “Even if, I don’t have his number or anything.”

“Fate has ways,” Buffy said, taking another sip of coffee.

“I _really_ doubt that I’m just gonna show up somewhere and see-”

* * *

“Angel?”

He turned around to look at her, from his spot just ahead in the queue. “Oh,” he said. “Faith, right?”

“Right.” She smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The shop didn’t seem much like a place she expected him to frequent. Around the walls were odd, colored shapes and designs, and around the tight space the room occupied, the tables were a bland steel. The place was cheap, greasy-smelling, and located in a hole in the wall, none of which fit his demeanor at all.

“It’s the best place I’ve found in the city,” Angel said.

She put on a thoughtful frown. “Took you more for a proper restaurant kind of guy.”

The queue moved forward, and suddenly, they were in front. “Well,” he said, “you don’t know me very well. Yet.”

 _Yet_. She liked yet.

“What are you getting?” he asked.

Caught off guard, she looked up at him. God, he was tall. “Uh, I was just thinking a wrap.”

Nodding, he turned away. “Two wraps,” he told the man behind the counter.

“Wait,” Faith protested, “you don’t have to pay for me, I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Angel said. “Can’t imagine they pay clerks very well.”

That much was true. “Alright,” she said with a shrug.

The man at the counter cleared his throat, and they turned to him. “Chili and garlic?” he asked.

“Both,” Faith said, enthusiastically.

“No garlic for me,” Angel said.

The man nodded and went to work.

She cocked her head. “You don’t like garlic? It’s like the best thing they put in these.”

“Not really my thing,” Angel said in a terse tone.

They got their food and he led her to one of the steel tables, then sat down on the grey, folded-out chairs that stood next to it. She followed suit.

Faith bit into her wrap, extremely aware of how impossible it was to eat in an attractive way. She emerged from her bite with dressing on her cheek and her eyes began a desperate search for a napkin.

“Here,” Angel said, offering her one, seemingly from nowhere.

She accepted it and ran it along her cheek. “Do you just... have these?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Pays to be prepared.”

With one hand, she crumbled up the napkin and put it on the table. “Well, since you know my work, it only seems fair that I know yours,” she said.

“I’m a private investigator,” he said. “I like to dig up the truth. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are lots of secrets in this city.” He gave her an odd look, then turned his eyes away.

“Sounds a lot more exciting than retail,” she said.

He frowned slightly. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “Don’t wanna be selling you blood forever though.”

Angel let out a chuckle. “Guess that’s fair enough. Do you have any hobbies then?”

“Partying count?”

“I suppose,” he said. “Not a big party guy myself.”

She nodded. “Now that, I believe.”

“I do karaoke every once in a while,” he said, getting quieter with every word.

Faith’s mouth opened wide. “I would _kill_ to see you do karaoke.”

“You’d have to,” he said. “Not exactly eager for folks to know.”

She gave him a devilish smile. “Well I know now,” she said.

“Frightening concept, but I trust you.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta be somewhere,” he said.”

Faith turned her eyes down. “Aww, we were having fun.”

“Well, let’s not make it the last time, then,” he said with a grin.

“Let’s not,” she replied.

He headed out of the store, leaving Faith where she was. With nothing but her free wrap and a thought, digging into the side of her skull. _Lots of secrets in this city._


	2. Line

Faith handed over the bag of pork chops and watched as the older woman she had been helping walked out with it in hand, letting the wind slam the door shut behind her. She was alone.

The shop was never busy in the last hour open. People came and went, one by one, but she had many moments to herself, contemplating the despair of minimum wage existence. She began absentmindedly tapping a half-remembered song into the counter, bobbing her head in sync. How she wished she could listen to music, but a particularly harsh reprimand on her first day had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t supposed to. Gradually, her tapping stopped resembling the song and started following along with the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Then along came a spider. A spider in a black leather jacket and, amusingly, named Angel, to be precise.

 _Oh thank god_ , Faith thought. She had been alone with her thoughts long enough for the existential dread to set in.

“Hey, An-gel,” she said in a sing-song voice.

He gave her a skeptical look. “Hi,” he said, walking over to the counter. “I’d-”

“You don’t even have to say it,” she said, then went to open the fridge.

She took out one of the blood boxes, then spun it around on her index finger like an NBA player. A mistake, which became immediately apparent as the box tipped over her finger and landed on the floor with a _THUNK_. The lid flew off as it tumbled around and blood began pouring out over the floor in all directions. Faith’s eyes widened in horror.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Angel coming around the counter. He grabbed a hold of the large blue paper towel hold and pulled off a long strip, then ducked to the floor.

“No, no, you don’t have to,” she said. “This is my job.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s fine. My blood anyhow.” He put the blood-soaked ball of paper in his hand into the bin, then went to pull off another one.

Faith followed suit, figuring four hands would be better than two. She began soaking up blood in the opposite direction to where he had gone to work.

“Not how I imagined our second date,” she muttered.

“Our-” he said, but stopped himself, returning to his work.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the last wad of blue papers was in Angel's hand. He stepped back to stand next to Faith, then lobbed the wad into the bin like a basketball.

"Yeah, goal!" she exclaimed.

He gave her an odd look.

"What, is that not what you say?" she asked.

He didn't answer her, instead heading back to the customer side. Her eyes took in a panorama view of the store as they followed his movements.

She sighed, burying her face in the counter. "What a nightmare;" she muttered.

"Really?" he asked. "Not your ideal way to spend the evening?"

"Not really, no." She shot up with a jolt. "Oh! Let me get you some new... blood."

He smiled. "A gracious host."

She tiptapped over to the fridge and grabbed another box, then carried it back with the utmost care, like a waitress with a tray of glasses. She held the box out to him, and he took it in hand.

A swipe of the credit card later, he seemed ready to leave with his usual closed-mouth smile.

"Uh, before you go-"

"Hmm?"

Faith folded her hands together in front of her. "Well, you know, I'm off in a few minutes..."

Angel got the hint. "Oh," he began, but stopped right after. His composure was gone in an instant.

She began drawing circles with her finger on the counter. "I mean you don't need to, it's just-"

"Of course," he said. "What were you thinking about?"

"We could hang at your place," she suggested.

"I... don't think that's a great idea," he said.

Faith shot him a devilish smile. "Mr. Detective got some secrets of his own?"

"No, my apartment just isn't exactly... visitor-ready."

 _Boy, could that mean a lot of things,_ Faith thought.

"I mean, my place can work. Bit small." She spread out her arm in a sweeping gesture. "Obviously."

He nodded, looking towards the clock. "Sounds good."

"You know what," Faith began, "I'll just close up now."

Angel turned his head towards her. "Uh, I don't think you close yet."

She shrugged.

"But isn't that against the rules?" he asked.

"Not if nobody's here to enforce them."

He frowned, but said nothing.

Paying him no mind, Faith began packing down the store, bringing meat into storage and hitting the lights, before finally emerging from the back room with her arms outstretched.

"How does she do it?" she asked no one. "Madwoman, I tell you."

He chuckled softly and gestured gallantly towards the door. "Shall we?"

A puzzled expression crept onto her face. "Shellfish," she replied with a nod.

The street was dark already. Cold to boot, but the air remained as oppressive and cloying as any humid Summer day. Faith locked the door and twirled the keyring around her finger. Casting a look at Angel, she noticed how oddly the streetlights were illuminating his face. It seemed better fit for the shadows, she thought to herself.

"It's a few blocks away," she said, moving down the street. She made sure to add a little sway, but knew there was quite the likelihood he wouldn't notice either way.

Their footsteps tried to harmonize, but Angel's longer legs proved to make that a challenge, as Faith added a half-step to her walk to keep ahead. The uneasy rhythm continued through the streets until she made an abrupt stop in front of an apartment complex.

She gave the door a few half hearted knocks. "That would be it," she said.

Angel's eyes travelled up and down the building, then returned to her with a smile. "Looks like a building," he replied.

"That's kind," she muttered, opening the door.

She led the two up the narrow stairs, stopping at the third floor in front of a plain light wood door. She fumbled with the lock for a few moments, letting out a nervous chuckle as she nearly dropped the key. With a nod to no one in particular, she rose to her feet and went inside.

She noticed him still standing in the stairway.

"You coming?" she asked.

"Uninvited? How rude."

"Uh, well, you're welcome inside. Spoilers, I didn't invite you here to leave you in the stairway."

He smiled and came into the entryway, almost bumping his head against the doorway on his way inside.

"This would be the abode," she said.

He took a few long, tentative steps, studying the place with a profoundly neutral expression. She observed him anxiously, awaiting his judgment.

"Nice abode," he finally said. Turning to her, he added, "Wait, you know the word 'abode' but not 'shall'?"

"Don't interrogate my vocab, dude. You'll go nuts."

Angel blew a bit of air out of his nose. "I believe that." He studied the room around them, then finally turned back to her. “Can I put this in your fridge?” he asked, holding up the blood box.

“Sure, knock yourself out. Just… don’t look at the expiration dates in there. It’s for your own good.”

Faith headed into the small living room and pulled off her work uniform, which she tossed on top of a nearby chair. She pulled at her black tank top to straighten it, then, with a relieved sigh, threw herself backwards onto the couch in the middle of the room. Her hair bounced alongside her and fell to cover her face in messy strands.

Angel followed her into the room, sitting quietly down in a chair that faced the couch.

She shrugged. "More couch for me."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the light catching a bit of metal on the table in front of her. She sat up to see it better, finding it to be a small necklace cross that she recognized as Buffy’s necklace. _Must have forgotten it,_ she thought _._

Angel had begun to subtly fidget with his hands. After a bout of silence, he spoke up. "Did you have any plans for when we got here?"

"Plans? You really don't know me very well," she said. "I dunno, do you want coffee? That's something people do."

"This late?" He furrowed his brow.

"Yeah! We make our own rules, who's gonna stop us?"

He chuckled. "A cup of revolutionary coffee seems good, thanks."

She waltzed to the kitchen - as she generously called the nook where she had her microwave and coffee machine - leaving Angel to, presumably, twiddle his thumbs in the chair. From the small cupboard on the wall, she reached up and retrieved two mostly clean ceramic mugs and a bag of no-brand coffee powder. There was already a spoon inside the bag, stained brown after being left there for weeks. She threw caution - and the instructions - to the wind and threw a few teaspoons of coffee in the machine, then started it.

Something knocked lightly against her bare shoulder. She jumped.

"Sorry," Angel said from behind her. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Faith scoffed. "You think you can scare me?"

"Well," he began, "I can be quite scary, when I try."

"What, do you have big pointy teeth or something?" she asked.

"You wanna find out?" he said with a smirk.

She turned her head, rolling her eyes back mockingly. Grabbing the pot from the coffee machine, she poured full the mugs, then scoured a nearby drawer of teaspoons. She found two that seemed clean enough and dropped both of them into the mugs, sending droplets of poorly mixed coffee flying out across the counter. Bits of the brown liquid ran in streak down the counter and across the drawers on their way down to the floor.

Doing her best to ignore the mess, she handed a mug to Angel, who took it in hand with a slightly skeptical look.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Faith averted his gaze as she took a sip of her own coffee. “I mean it’s no delicacy, but-”

“Thank you,” he said, cutting her off with a surprising amount of sincerity. He softly placed a hand on her shoulder.

Faith put her hand on top of his with a concerned expression. “You’re cold,” she said.

“Well, we were just outside.” He pulled his hand out from her grasp.

“Let’s get you a blanket! I have some in the living room, we can get real snug and-”

A buzz sounded, and Angel looked like he had been struck by lightning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Thank you for this, but I have to go now.” He set the mug down on the table and turned towards the door.

She followed him. “Are you sure? It’s pretty quick, sounds like something’s wrong:”

“No, just something I have to do. Nothing you should worry about.”

“I’m a bit worried though!” she exclaimed.

Angel opened the door and cast a look back at her. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

He was gone.

A disappointed sigh slipped her lips as she stared longingly into the wooden door. He had been _right there_ and she’d let him slip. And he had left so suddenly. A thought struck her. On hurried steps, she went back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The blood was still inside, right between assorted milk cartons and a cheap bottle of ketchup.

She flicked a finger against the plastic, watching the blood as it sloshed gently around. Deep inside, she could feel something simmering to the surface of her consciousness. Blood. Night. Garlic.

Mmm, garlic. Man, she was hungry.

_Focus._

Secrets. Big pointy teeth.

She slammed the fridge shut. Taking a few deep breaths, she wandered through the small apartment to the living room. Her eyes darted back and forth over the table, finally finding what they were seeking out. She took the cross necklace in hand, holding it up to the light above to study it.

_This should work._


	3. Sinker

“Are you okay? You’ve been staring at that door for like thirty minutes.”

Faith nodded, still fixated. “I’m fine, Harmony.”

The girl made an indecipherable noise, then returned to the sweeping she had been in the middle of.

At the counter, Faith had much better things to think about than her job. Like vampires. He would have to come soon, if he was going to at all. She clutched the cross tight.

“Are you going to help me?” Harmony asked.

“I’m working the counter.”

“Nobody’s here!”

“You sure?” Faith asked.

A black-clad figure had just appeared on the street, moving across the glass window towards the door.

“Whatever,” Harmony muttered.

Tall, dark, handsome, and always after sundown. Always. The door opened.

“Good evening,” Angel said as he headed towards the counter.

“Yeah,” Faith replied, clenching her fist beneath the counter.

A concerned expression crossed his face before he composed himself.

“Blood?” she asked.

“No, not actually,” he said. “I just came to say sorry for yesterday.”

Behind her, she noticed the sweeping had stopped. Faith had stopped too, loosening the grip around the cross slightly. “Sorry?”

“Well, I left pretty suddenly. Rather rude.”

She darted her eyes uncertainly, rubbing her thumb against the metal in her hands. “Well... don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl,” she muttered.

He chuckled at that. “I’m certain,” he said. ”I just didn’t want you to think-”

“Oh, I don’t.”

“Think?” he asked.

 _Well, barely_. “Don’t worry,” she said, getting increasingly worried.

Angel gave her an odd look, and she suspected that another was boring into the back of her head.

“Well, you two seem busy,” he said. “I’ll get you at a better time and-”

“Catch!” Faith exclaimed and threw the cross in an arc to him.

His wide eyes tried to follow it as he reached into the air. The cross landed right in his palm, but then he seemed to fumble. Was that smoke she saw? The cross clanged noisily against the hard floor and bounced out of sight.

Angel found her eyes, an expression of confusion and mild anger painted on his face.

“Sorry,” she yelped.

“I-” he began, but seemed to give up. “It... fell under something, I think.”

Faith nodded slowly.

He let a bit of air out of his nose and shook his head. A slight puzzled smile had appeared on his face as he turned towards the door. “I’ll see you around,” he said, as he headed outside.

“What was that about?” Harmony asked.

“I have to leave,” Faith curtly replied.

“Uh, we’re closing up together?”

Faith folded her hands in a pleading motion. “I’ll owe you one?” she suggested.

Faith made her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. Harmony stared at her.

“Whatever,” she finally said.

Faith almost beamed, before she remembered why she was leaving. There had been smoke. She was sure. The jig was oh so very much up, couldn’t be more up, really. What was a jig, anyway? Was it like a gig but the old timey version or w- _Focus!_

She sprinted out of the room and down the hallway towards the back exit. With a shaky hand, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and dialed Buffy.

_“Y’ello.”_

“Hey, B,” she whispered, looking frantically in all directions to find Angel. She spotted him heading around the corner further down and road and began running as quietly as she could manage.

 _“Aren’t you at work right now?”_ Buffy asked.

“Well, I’m supposed to be,” Faith replied. “You know that guy?”

_“What guy?”_

“Angel.”

_“Angel guy?”_

“You were right,” Faith said. “Dude’s a straight up vamp.”

_“He’s a woman?”_

“No, a vampire, dude.”

Faith swore she could hear Buffy rubbing her temples in response, even through the phone.

_“You know I was joking about that, right?”’_

“Well, I’m not,” Faith said. She rounded the corner and saw Angel heading away. She crossed the street diagonally and began power walking to catch up.

_“Faith, you’re being ridiculous. Vampires don’t exist.”_

“Funny that I know one then, isn’t it?”

Buffy sighed.

“Oh, by the by, I lost your necklace, seeya around.”

_“You wha-”_

Faith hung up.

On the street, just a few meters ahead, she noticed a mess of bottles standing next to an entrance stairway. A thought bubbled in her mind and she grabbed two of them, one in each hand. When she looked back at Angel, she noticed that he had stopped, and looked like he was searching for his keys.

Now was her shot. She rushed across the street until she was standing right behind him. He turned to follow the sound of her footsteps on the asphalt and widened his eyes as he saw her.

“Faith?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“Don’t!” she exclaimed, holding out the two bottles in front of her in the shape of a cross.

He furrowed his brow. “Have you been following me?”

“I know what you are,” she said.

He waved his hand in a circle motion. “And what am I, then?”

“You’re-” she tried.

“Yes?”

“You’re a vampire!” she spat, holding the bottles further out now.

He stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he burst into laughter. “I’m a _what_?”

Faith felt knocked off balance. Regaining her composure, she said, “You heard me.”

“I did, yeah,” he said. “But I wanna hear it again.”

“You’re a vampire,” she said, noticeably less certain in her tone this time.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you there,” he said, barely stifling his smile. “Is this because of the blood?”

“Well… partly,” she admitted.

“Right.” He nodded. “I’m afraid I’m not. A vampire, that is.”

She frowned, slowly lowering the bottles, before with a jolt putting them back. “That’s what a vampire would say!”

Angel chuckled. “Come on up, I’ll show you something.” He unlocked the door to the apartment building and headed inside.

Faith reluctantly followed him up the stairs, getting increasingly sure she was about to be eaten with each step. She clutched the bottle in her right hand tight, envisioning herself smashing it into the side of Angel’s head. Would that work against a vampire? It had to, right?

She was slightly startled to see him standing with an open door when she reached the second floor. He had on an amused, inviting smile. Unnerving.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she went inside, tightening her grip.

The apartment was disappointingly normal. The furniture looked to be a mixture of thrift shop finds and the cheapest that IKEA had available, and the floor was mostly clean, without even any bloodstained carpets. All in all, the feel was more bachelor pad than evil lair.

“Nice place,” she said.

“Why, thank you,” he replied.

She sprung around, startled at how close his voice seemed.

Angel held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not trying anything,” he said. “You’re welcome to have a seat.”

She held up a bottle meaningfully as she backed towards the nearest chair. He snorted.

With a few nods, he headed to what looked like the kitchen. It was bigger than hers, though nothing impressive, and had a big red fridge as its centerpiece. He opened it and reached inside, obscured from Faith’s view.

When he returned, he was carrying a plate. The height difference between them made it hard for Faith to see the contents. He walked over and put the plate down in front of her. It turned out to contain a small fork and three round slices of an unfamiliar, black-ish, brown-ish, purple-ish substance.

“What am I looking at?” she asked.

“Black pudding,” he replied.

She furrowed her brow. “Doesn’t look like pudding.”

“It’s a sausage,” he explained with a chuckle. “Made with fat, oats, and-”

“Blood,” she said, realization dawning.

“Right. It’s a good breakfast food. Or any time, really.”

Faith turned her face up to his, quite a feat considering he was both tall and standing. With a skeptical grimace, she studied him.

“Okay, but what about the garlic?”

Angel shrugged. “I’m just not a fan.”

“But you always come at night! Almost like you _can’t walk in sunlight_ ,” she said, sounding immensely sure of herself.

Another shrug. “I work late. Get invested in my cases.”

She stood up, pointing a finger at him. “But when you visited me-”

“Yeah?”

“You needed to be invited in! That’s a vampire thing... I think.”

“Or politeness,” he suggested.

Faith was deflated. There really wasn’t anything she could stick to him. Unless…

“The cross! You couldn’t hold the cross.”

“Are you a Christian?” he asked.

“Well, no. But they hurt vampires, I know that.”

“Personally, I don’t think butterfingers warrant a stake through the heart. But if you insist…” Angel spread out his arms, leaving his chest exposed.

Faith cast a look at the bottles in her hands. “I don’t have one of those.”

He smiled amusedly. “Good luck going against a vampire, then.”

“I’m not though, am I?” she muttered in a disappointed tone.

“Sadly,” he said. “Did you want to?”

She shrugged. “Well I dunno. You think you just uncovered a supernatural underworld in the city. It’s exciting, right?”

“And I’m not?” he teased.

Faith rolled her eyes. With a shake of the head, she set the bottles aside on the table. No vampire, no secret, no epic showdown. Overall, a bit of a bust.

Angel picked up the plate from the table and offered it to her. “Consolation prize?”

She accepted it. With her right hand, she grabbed the fork and dug into one of the slices of very non-pudding pudding. She put it in her mouth and grimaced as soon as it hit her tongue. Very reluctantly, she swallowed it down.

“You _eat_ this? Willingly?”

“What, you don’t like it?” he asked.

“It’s horrible!”

He gently took the plate and put it back on the table. “It’s a delicacy in Ireland.”

“Always knew you couldn’t trust those guys;” she said.

“I’m from Ireland,” Angel replied.

“Well you’re maybe a vampire so don’t even start.”

“You’re still on that, huh?”

Faith learned against the table. “A bit,” she admitted. “ _Faith the Vampire Slayer_ has a nice ring to it, right? Potential there.”

“If I’m not the one being slayed, I’m all for it,” he said.

Without communicating a shared intention to, the two headed to what seemed like the living room and sat down on the leather couch that Angel has put in the middle of the room. It was clearly used, and gave way as they sat down on it. There was quiet for a bit between them, save for the odd sounds the couch made as they moved awkwardly around.

Faith felt something in her pocket and retrieved her phone. There was a short message.

“Harmony says she found the necklace.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“I’m glad it’s not lost. It belongs to my friend.”

“I figured,” Angel said.

Another bit of silence.

“I feel like an idiot,” Faith said after a while.

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I am, though. Vampires? Really?”

“Can’t blame you for believing in something fun,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind being a vampire, to be honest with you.”

Faith nodded to herself. “I mean, they are the sexiest monster.”

“You think so?” he asked with an audible smile.

She turned towards him and the two locked eyes.

“Pretty uncontroversial opinion. I mean, doesn’t everyone agree on that?” she said, quieter now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Glad you do, though.”

Since when were they sitting this close?

“I’m glad you’re not too mad at me,” she said.

“It’s hard to be,” he replied softly.

“Could you tell that to my coworkers?”

“I’ll make sure to do that.” He chuckled, moving his face closer to hers.

“You sure you should be doing that?” she whispered against his lips. “Someone could get hurt.”

They closed their eyes, almost in unison.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”


End file.
